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Two-hundred yards from my tent;
Gorgeous...
Gorgeous...
A cool, quiet evening on Baldy. I dug a pit & built a fire. There's no burn-ban in Summit County, yet; so the risk is low. I suspect, however, that a burn ban will be in effect by July, unless we see some solid Summer rain. Temps tonight should dip down to 41. As I lie here in my tent, I can hear the babble of a nearby stream (temporarily formed by snow-melt), the howls & screeches of various animals, & the distant sigh of a jet: above my tent, & far above the sleepy Pines. I wonder where it's going, & if anyone suspects that far below, I'm grinning at the blaze of a roaring fire, & pulling my sleeping-bag around my ears...
Yesterday afternoon I went to the Cliff with Henry Thoreau. Warm, pleasant, misty weather, which the great Mountain ampitheatre seemed to drink in with gladness. A Crow's voice seemed to fill all the miles of air with sound. A Bird's voice, even a piping Frog, enlivens a solitude and makes world enough for us. At night I went out into the dark and saw a glimmering Star and heard a Frog, and Nature seemed to say, "Well, do not these suffice? Here is a new scene, a new experience. Ponder it, Emerson, and not like the foolish world, hanker after...multitudes."
This photo is of the entrance to an old, unmarked mine, in the White River National Forest. I begin goldpanning soon! (Photos & video to follow)
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